


Firefly

by Brokenwords



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Bucky Barnes Has Issues, Forgive Me, M/M, Pining, Unfulfilled Romance, its sad okay, no happy endings here, sorry - Freeform, wasted love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:42:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27219613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brokenwords/pseuds/Brokenwords
Summary: Flying to his feet he pushed Bucky back down, heedless of the other’s frown and blurted, “Don’t forget about me, ever, or I’ll make you regret it.” Then he kicked Bucky in the shin and leaned down to press their lips hastily and clumsily together before straightening up and running away, tears clinging to his lashes. In the dirt Bucky watched, touching his tingling lips and feeling his heart ache in his chest.“Don’t do anything stupid!” Bucky called after him.“You’re takin all the stupid with you!” Steve hollered back, wiping the back of his hand under his snotty nose. Then he was gone.- James Barnes, infamous nightlife high-flier and flagrant pleasure seeker thinks it's a normal night in his unfulfilling life. Until a stranger smashes his carefully constructed delusion.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 22
Kudos: 25





	Firefly

Barnes stood on his balcony, smoke curling in wisps from the cigarette half forgotten between his fingertips. Every once in a while he would take another drag, inhaling toxins and breathing them out again in white puffs, watching idly as they danced like insubstantial ghosts on the breeze. 

It was his customary after-sex cigarette, even if he didn’t indulge himself enough to actually smoke it in bed. Still, it was soothing in its own right, easing tension from his shoulders and numbing his mind. At least that was the idea, only tonight it didn’t seem to work. Instead his thoughts kept drifting back to the stranger in his bed just a few feet away, cocooned in his sheets and fast asleep amongst his pillows. 

Growling softly, he shook his head and took another inhale, this was ridiculous. It was hardly the first time he’d brought someone home for a mindless fuck. In fact, he was known for two things in his world; one, for being a ruthless businessman, owning several of the hottest clubs in New York and two, for sleeping around. 

That was how he’d earned his nickname – Winter. Cold. The name itself didn’t bother Barnes too much, he’d grown used to it over the years and it suited him far better than his true name. But with it also came the implication that he was cruel and heartless and maybe to most he was. The truth of the matter, however, was that Barnes’ heart resided in a little jar on the shelf in his living room; a jar encasing a firefly, resting lifelessly in its dusty coffin amidst dried sticks and leaves. It had been there since he was ten years old. 

*

_“I don’t want you to go,” Short legs kicked aimlessly at a rock, sending it skittering across the alley._

_“I know,” Bucky sighed in response, “but I have to. Dad got a new job in Manhattan and we’re moving.”_

_Wide blue eyes looked up at him sorrowfully and Bucky had to swallow hard as the other whispered, “You could stay with me, you promised. Promised you would take care of me.”_

_Huffing softly Bucky sat down on an overturned shopping cart. “I know what I promised,” he muttered. “But I don’t have a choice. Besides, It’s not that far. I’ll take the train and visit. Plus you need to get tough on your own too, Stevie. I taught ya how to throw a punch, so don’t back down alright?” He reached up and tugged on the other’s hand, pulling him down onto the cart beside him and ruffling his hair. “Otherwise big bullies like me are gonna beat you up and I won’t be there to fight ‘em with ya.”_

_“Stop it,” the other wrinkled his nose and batted the offending hand away. “I’m not a little kid anymore. I just don’t want you to go.”_

_Bucky laughed teasingly, “Not little? Are you just a midget then?”_

_“I’m nine!” Steve pouted, “Just because you’re ten and bigger doesn’t mean you can make fun of me.”_

_“Almost eleven,” Bucky corrected. “And I’m just teasing anyway. But let’s not fight, because mom said I had to be home in an hour so we could leave and that means that we should have fun and not be mad.”_

_Steve nodded and scooted closer to his friend. Bucky had met him one day in the alley that summer when some of the bigger kids were picking on him for talking to the homeless lady on the corner who, according to Steve, called him sweetheart and was really nice even though she smelled. Bucky hadn’t made fun of him though; instead he’d swung at the other kids, threatening them with pure bravado, then squatted down next to him and asked if he was alright. Steve had looked up at him as if he was a superhero and in that moment Bucky had felt like he could do anything. From that day on they’d been fast friends._

_Steve wasn’t exactly an easy friend to have either. He was full of crazy ideas and was always getting into fights that he inevitably lost. Then Bucky had to go and fight for him. By the end of the summer he had three new scars and enough scoldings to last a lifetime. But he was also happy. And when they weren't getting into mischief they were running to the corner market and back to buy candy or to play cops and robbers or even sneaking out on the apartment rooftop to watch the lights from planes and pretend they were stars at night. But now Bucky was leaving and going to a new neighbourhood even though he’d told Steve he’d take care of him and Bucky wished it was different._

_Scuffing his toe, Bucky sighed. “I don’t wanna go, you know that right? For real. You’re my best friend, Stevie.”_

_Beside him Steve nodded, drawing in a big, deep, breath then let it out in a rush as he jumbled, “I got you a present, cuz mom said that you would be leaving no matter what I said and so I snuck out last night and got you something because even though you are going, I don’t want you sad, so here.” Steve fumbled around in the pocket of his oversized brown coat for a moment before drawing out a small jar with a couple twigs and leaves inside it, cap screwed tightly in place._

_Frowning, Bucky took the offered gift out of small hands and squinted inside the glass container. “What is it?” he asked, confused._

_“A firefly,” Steve replied seriously, “cuz they are the closest thing I could think of to stars, or at least pretend stars. I caught it in the park and mom yelled at me for it when she found out I was still awake but let me put it in a jar for you to take with you.” He paused for a moment then added, “I don’t know what they eat though, so you should probably ask someone big cuz otherwise it will die.”_

_“I won’t let it die,” Bucky replied seriously. And inside he was praying the little bug would never die because he didn’t want to leave either, no matter how brave he was being. Steve was his buddy, he was special, and pure, and Bucky was scared that if he left people would start teasing him again, and Bucky knew all about teasing and how much it sucked. Slinging his arm around his friend he whispered, “I’ll take good care of it I promise. I’ll come back to visit, just to show you it.”_

_They sat there in silence for a few minutes, Steve biting his lip and trying not to cry while Bucky maintained that he was older and a man and therefore should be tough and not let the younger see how upset he really was._

_Finally however, they could hear Bucky’s mother calling for him and with a sad sigh the older of the two moved to stand up but Steve beat him to it. Flying to his feet he pushed Bucky back down, heedless of the other’s frown and blurted, “Don’t forget about me, ever, or I’ll make you regret it.” Then he kicked Bucky in the shin and leaned down to press their lips hastily and clumsily together before straightening up and running away, tears clinging to his lashes. In the dirt Bucky watched, touching his tingling lips and feeling his heart ache in his chest._

_“Don’t do anything stupid!” Bucky called after him._

_“You’re takin all the stupid with you!” Steve hollered back, wiping the back of his hand under his snotty nose. Then he was gone._

*

Only Barnes never saw Steve again and shortly after moving to Manhattan the firefly died and Bucky’s childish heart had died with it. He had cried until his dad yelled at him, telling him that ten-year-old boys shouldn’t cry, especially over bugs. Not wanting to anger his father, Bucky had wiped his nose on his sleeve and blinked back his tears, taking the small jar and hiding it under his bed. But what his father didn’t understand was that the firefly had been Bucky’s only comfort in a new neighbourhood full of new people, unfriendly strangers that looked at him askance and teased him for his nickname. So Bucky had died and Barnes had been born. 

Years later when he was packing up his room to go to university for business, Barnes had found the jar and in a moment of rash emotion he’d stuffed the small container in his duffle bag and taken it with him, a reminder of his childhood friend, the one his heart could never quite forget, a corpse for comfort in a new school. 

Barnes watched the people far below with disinterest, wondering vaguely what Steve had done with his life, where he had gone, who he’d become. Part of him wished he knew, but the other part of him, the part that was still Bucky, didn’t want to see him again, because he knew Steve would be disappointed in the man he’d grown into. Steve had always wanted to be a hero, just like he thought Bucky had been.

At ten Bucky had been full of confidence and faith in people; he’d been the champion against the world’s villains, or at least the bullies that picked on Steve. Now, years later Barnes knew that the heroes got nothing and it was the bullies that made their way in the world. He’s slept and bartered his way into riches, taking what he wanted and ignoring the guilt that came with it. What did it matter what he did anyway? It's not like anyone judged him for it, they were all just like he was. Fighting to get ahead and using sex in a desperate attempt to connect, if only on a physical level. Everyone needed touch. It felt good. Why bother with emotions when you could fuck someone new, spend the night pressed against smooth skin, then in the morning forget all about it and move on. 

Bucky didn’t need anyone looking at him like he was a hero ever again. All he needed was a release of tension and that was it. 

Snorting softly he shook his head. It was beyond ridiculous now. He’d gone from thinking about the stranger in his bed to memories nearly twenty years old. He was twenty-eight, hardly a kid still in love with a tiny righteous slip of a boy. 

Though, perhaps that was just it. The man inside his dimly lit bedroom had the same sadly hopeful eyes that Steve had possessed, bright like a puppy but easily crushed. Part of Barnes even wondered if the guy had even had sex before, inexperienced as he was when they’d embraced earlier. But his lips had been too sinful to resist, and his body had molded so prettily under his hands. Besides, he’d been bold enough to get into Barnes’ club and it was him who’d kissed Barnes first, amusing the other man with his shy attempts. 

Still the similarities stopped at the clumsy kisses and wide eyes, and for that Barnes had been grateful. Steve had been a tiny runt of a thing. He didn’t need a memory of some nine year old squirt with scuffed shoes and skinned knees giving him his first kiss to ruin his fun for the evening. The man in his bed was anything but. He was taller than Bucky, dark blond hair ruffled and body sculpted like he was a greek god. He’d been shy in bed, but he’d spread his thighs willingly, not a complaint in sight as Bucky had pushed in. 

Smirking at the memory of making those thighs shake, Bucky turned back to the watching the city, intent on finishing his cigarette then returning inside for some more fun before he kicked his guest out. It wouldn’t be the first pair of eyes he crushed and whoever they belonged to would learn soon enough that the world was a lonely place and love was meant for childhood dreams. New York did that to people. 

The sound of rustling and a soft curse distracted him a few minutes later however, and to his surprise he turned to find his guest stumbling onto the balcony in nothing but a sheet tucked about his waist. Seeing Barnes amused, arched brow, the other man flushed and muttered, “Sorry, it was the first thing I could find to put on in the dark.”

His smirk widening into a grin, his gaze resting on the barely covered skin of the other’s thighs, Barnes drawled lazily, “You hardly needed to put anything on, it’s only me and the stars somewhere up there I’m sure neither of us are going to complain.”

Surprisingly the other said nothing, instead just flushing slightly and walking up to Barnes, pulling the cigarette from his fingers and taking a deep inhale, as if trying to calm his nerves. Amused, Barnes let him, suddenly intrigued to find out where this was going to go. Modesty wasn’t something he saw a lot of in his world, nor was shyness, especially not coming from someone he’d picked up in one of his clubs for a one night stand, let alone spent the last couple of hours fucking. 

“When I was a kid I used to pretend I could see the stars in the city even though the light pollution pretty much made that impossible,” the other spoke finally, his voice soft and almost bitter against the night air. “But I guess if you step on enough people’s backs, you get so high above the city that’s all the company you have left.”

Barnes frowned, his eyebrows drawing together as he looked at the larger man. He wasn’t stupid, he knew he’d just been insulted, or at the very least chastised, but what right did some jock, a nobody, have to tell him off? “Listen,” he began, his voice low and edged, “I brought you up here for sex, not a lecture; no matter how veiled you make it. Your mouth was a lot more appealing when you used it earlier.”

Silence stretched on for a long moment, before the sound of swallowing and a soft snort reached his ears, and with an incredulous expression he saw that the other was _laughing_ at him. A low, mocking laugh, tinged with something Barnes couldn’t place. He watched as the man turned, pressing his back against the railing, sheet riding precariously low as he tipped his face to look at Barnes, a smile pasted carefully onto his features. “Trust me, I have no illusions as to why you brought me here anymore. But hey,” he shrugged, “what do I know? I’m just a kid from Brooklyn who learned the hard way that people don’t keep promises and you have to fend for yourself. And you’re just a guy so entrenched in himself he’s forgotten that other people actually matter.”

Laughing once more, even as his eyes shone with something that looked akin to tears, the other stubbed out the cigarette and pushed off the railing, shuffling past Barnes and his shocked expression into the warmth of the room that lay beyond. 

Barnes’ hand shot out and gripped him by the upper arm before he could get far, however. “Who the hell do you think you are?” he hissed angrily. 

“A kid,” he received as a response after a moment’s pause, “Just a dumb kid who had a stupid crush on his friend, even long after his friend left. A kid who wanted to know what it would feel like to kiss the same boy he shared his first kiss with… only that one was innocent. Turns out the next one didn’t have quite the same feel.”

Tightening his fingers a miniscule amount Bucky hissed lowly, panic and confusion seeping into his tone, “What’s your name?” It wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be.

“Let go of me, Bucky,” the words were whispered, barely louder than a breath but they worked their magic. Instantly Bucky was releasing the other’s arm and stepping back. Sad eyes met him and a tight voice continued, “You used to be my hero, the one memory I could cling to whenever things were tough and I needed a friend more real than my imaginary ones. But now you’re just another bully, not special at all.” 

“Stevie,” Bucky whispered, aching with the sudden onslaught of emotions for a man that was a stranger yet wasn’t. 

The other smiled; a tired, worn smile and shook his head, slowly moving to find his clothes in the darkness, slipping them on in the silence that permeated the opulent room. “It was good to see you again, Bucky,” he breathed, skin hidden once more and soul sheltered. The words were a lie, they both knew it. Then he bent and pressed a hard kiss to Bucky’s lips before pulling away, “This time feel free to forget about me.”

The slam of the door was what finally jolted Bucky out of his frozen stance. With a soft whimper he closed his eyes, trying to breathe, then walked slowly to the living room. Pulling the jar off the shelf, he rubbed his thumb across its dusty surface until he could see the dead little firefly inside, cold and alone. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered as he slumped down against the wall. “I couldn’t keep you alive and I couldn’t be a hero without you.” Then he threw the glass coffin against the far wall, watching with bitter satisfaction as it shattered against the paint.

*

Outside, a hunched figure walked down the street, shoulders stooped and hands shaking. It had been stupid to chase after his childhood dream, and Steve knew he should have stopped when he realized just who his Bucky had become, but the heart is a foolish thing.

Biting his kiss swollen lips he felt fresh tears sting his eyes as he kicked at a stone, a habit of years past. And in the blurry haze he saw Bucky’s reflection, expression stark and afraid as he realized just who he’d pressed into the mattress, whose collarbone he’d marked with dark red bruises, whose trusting eyes he’d blurted his poisoned words to. 

_I brought you up here for sex…_ Smiling bitterly through the salty tracks dripping down his cheeks and onto his lips, Steve looked up at the sky high above and wondered what had possessed him to give away his heart in the tiny form of a firefly. Insect lives were short; they lived just a breath of time then died away. Steve’s firefly would have died shortly after Bucky moved, taking his childish heart with it. 

All that would’ve been left was an empty jar, used for a short time then thrown away. 

**Author's Note:**

> Well I’ve been sick the last couple of weeks and it’s been snowing constantly. Which means. ANGST SEASON IS UPON US. And look, once again I have written something completely open ended because that is how I roll. 
> 
> [@brokenintowords](https://twitter.com/brokenintowords) on twitter if you wanna come muse with me!


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